


Axioms

by Comatosejoy



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29577522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comatosejoy/pseuds/Comatosejoy
Summary: An AU in which the war did not happen. Damen and Auguste are friends.Told slowly, in paragraphs.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 103





	1. ONE

Laurent was thirteen when the prince of Akeilos first visited Arles. His name was Damianos and he and Auguste were cut from the same cloth. They liked each other immediately--two future-kings discussing future-king matters.

Damianos took a pet during his stay, some light-haired, svelte thing around Auguste’s age, and had, according to court gossip which Laurent did his best to avoid but heard anyway, completely blown his mind. 

Laurent had, in a detached sort of way, thought the prince handsome. Eighteen, at the time, had seemed very grown-up. It was an age where you had sex and when adults started taking you seriously. But Damianos, to Laurent, seemed to be born taken seriously. People, even people not under his command, listened to him. He was a natural leader, someone who could make an atheist believe in divine right. It was the sort of thing that Laurent did not entirely know what to do with and therefore avoided. He did not say goodbye when the prince left.


	2. TWO POINT ONE

There was some sort of international treaty to be signed in Patras and Laurent, interested in cultural differences, asked to come along. At fifteen, he had never been to Bazal, and he had not been prepared for such an arduous journey. Their route took them through Acquitart, where they rested for a fortnight, and Laurent watched as Auguste snuck away nightly and came back in the wee hours of the morning happily exhausted. 

“It’s important to have good diplomacy with the Vaskian clans,” Auguste said when he stumbled back one morning to find Laurent still awake and reading. 

“Is that what we’re calling fornication these days?” Laurent had deadpanned as he turned a page, earning a boisterous laugh from his brother. 

When their party got to Bazal, the Akeilons had already arrived. Auguste greeted Prince Damianos warmly, bringing him in for an embrace. The two picked up immediately where they had left off. Looking at them, no one would suspect that they had not seen each other in two years. Perhaps they kept up a correspondence. Laurent did not know. 

“You remember my brother, Laurent?” Auguste said, ushering Laurent forward. 

Politely (it was just politeness!), Damianos bent and kissed Laurent’s hand. It was nothing to swoon over. And yet Laurent found himself doing just that. He turned bright red. He felt himself trembling. And he, very annoyingly, felt Auguste right next to him observe this. He was never going to hear the end of it. 

“A pleasure,” Damianos, either oblivious to Laurent’s swooning or polite enough not to acknowledge it, said.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Laurent squeaked. He squeaked! Squeaking was decidedly _not_ a princely thing to do. To compensate, he smiled as charmingly as he could, which he then realized probably came off as overly-eager.


	3. TWO POINT TWO

“Should I prepare for an Akeilon wedding?” Auguste joked when he and Laurent were alone in their apartments. 

Laurent, who was in the middle of setting out his clothes for dinner, froze. Then, too-deliberately, he smoothed out the sleeve of the jacket. “I have absolutely no idea what you mean,” he said. 

“I don’t think you have to consummate a marriage in front of the council if it’s to another man,” Auguste pressed on. 

Laurent could feel the burning in his cheeks. “I’m going to bathe. If I’m not back in half an hour, it’s because I’ve drowned myself,” he snarked. 

The cackle Auguste let out as Laurent exited the room could only be described as villainous.


	4. TWO POINT THREE

Laurent made a valiant effort to keep the disgust out of his face as Auguste regaled Prince Damianos with his stories of Vaskian women over dinner. It wasn’t that he found sex itself disgusting; it was that he did not understand why anyone would risk a bastard for the sake of sliding your cock through something.

“Will you stop looking at me like that, Lo?” Auguste laughed. Then, explaining to Prince Damianos, “Laurent doesn’t like women.” 

Laurent flushed. That was hardly the issue. “I like women just fine. I just don’t wish to bed them.” He took a drink of water from his goblet. “Nor do I care to think about _you_ bedding them.” 

He stood, because he did not care to think about Prince Damianos bedding anyone either, but for an entirely different set of reasons, and excused himself.


	5. TWO POINT FOUR

One of the (seemingly) thousand Patran noblemen spoke decent Veretian and took Auguste and Prince Damianos to the lawn to practice archery. This was convenient because the library overlooked the lawn, and that meant Laurent, sitting in a reading nook at the window, could openly gawk at Prince Damianos without worrying about either being seen or having Auguste mercilessly tease him. 

And so gawk he did. Prince Damianos carried himself like he had never doubted a thing in his life. He had the easy confidence of someone who was good at anything he tried. His face was meant to be carved on statues.

Laurent’s mouth went dry as he watched Prince Damianos wield his bow. His muscles flexed visibly as he drew the string, lined up his sights, and sent an arrow flying. It hit the target dead-center. The prince pointed at the sky and fired another arrow. 

A bird, struck down mid-flight, landed on the lawn, an arrow in its breast. Auguste, visibly impressed, clapped Prince Damianos on the back. Laurent added archery to the list of things he’d need to learn, if only to have something to talk to the Akeilon prince about.


	6. THREE

Technically speaking, Laurent had been courting-age since he’d been sixteen. He had, therefore, been fielding interested parties for three years, but no one had gotten quite as far as Prince Torveld, whom Laurent gave the time of day to only because Auguste had asked nicely. 

“You have to, at the very least, have a substantial reason when you turn him down,” Auguste had said before the Patran prince arrived, as if it was a certainty that Prince Torveld would want to court him. The odds were good, but still. “I don’t care how many Veretian noblemen’s hearts you break, but you can’t insult a foreign dignitary with one of your world-famous, brutal rejections.” 

Auguste had a point. Laurent had a reputation for being unkind in his denials, but this was borne out of necessity. If Laurent took the time to let down every man who ever made eyes at him easy, that’s all he’d ever fucking do! Laurent thought about arguing this to his brother, but if Laurent decided to argue every time Auguste said something pigheaded, that’s all he’d ever do, too. 

So he acquiesced, and that’s how he found himself having the world’s least-interesting conversation about shipping routes, which is saying something because there has never been an interesting conversation about shipping routes. 

But Prince Torveld wasn’t a bad man. He had kind eyes and gave every indication that he considered Laurent to be more than just a pretty face. And he wasn’t unattractive. Laurent could certainly do worse than a decent-looking, competent man who adored him. 

But Prince Torveld wasn’t the only person who met Laurent and fell in love with him instantly. There was a long line of men--and a few extremely misguided women--that Prince Torveld would have to get behind.

Presently, Prince Torveld was inching closer to Laurent. His eyes, periodically, darted down to Laurent’s lips. Laurent knew what this meant: the prince was going to kiss him, and soon if Laurent did not get out of it. 

If Prince Torveld had not been so wrapped up in watching Laurent’s mouth, he would have noticed Laurent very, very deliberately reach out a hand and knock over his goblet of wine. 

But Prince Torveld did not notice, because being in love makes you stupid. 

“Oh no!” Laurent said, jumping back so the wine would not get on him. A few drops had made it onto Prince Torveld’s trousers and Laurent called over a servant to begin cleaning up. “I must be very tired. I’m not usually so clumsy. I must retire to my apartments. If you’ll excuse me.” 

Laurent stood and hastily made his retreat, pointedly avoiding Auguste’s eyes. Prince Torveld was leaving in two days. He only had to keep this up for two days.


	7. FOUR

Damen leaned over the side of the ship, letting the ocean kiss his face. Nikandros, to his right, stood formerly, watching the sailors around them with mild interest. 

“Exalted,” someone greeted. Damen turned around. It was the captain, who was kneeling. His eyes were averted as though Damen’s face were the sun and if he looked directly at him, it would damage his vision. “The winds are fair. We will make it to Vere ahead of schedule.” 

“Thank you,” Nikandros said on Damen’s behalf, making a dismissing gesture. Damen smiled in a way he hoped conveyed his thanks to the captain and turned his face back to the sea. He saw the gray backs of bottlenose dolphins racing alongside the ship playfully and was about to mention it--they were delightful to watch--when Nikandros cleared his throat. 

“There are rumors of the younger prince’s beauty.”

As though Nikandros was just making conversation and not leading up to something, Damen said, “I have not seen the younger prince since he was an adolescent. I cannot vouch for his beauty.” 

“Do I need to be concerned?” Nikandros asked, which was a rather brave question to pose to one’s king, Damen thought. 

Damen chose not to dignify this with a response. He did not mention the dolphins.


	8. FOUR POINT TWO

“Do I need to be concerned?” Auguste asked, which was a rather brave question to pose to someone holding a sword, Laurent thought. 

Laurent went through a series of techniques without thinking. His form was perfect. As though he were not engaged in sport, he very casually said, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Well, there’s quite a bit of difference between spilling wine on a prince and spilling wine on a king,” Auguste said, selecting a sword and joining Laurent in the practice ring. “Let’s fight.” 

Laurent did not like that one bit. Auguste must have planned to approach him here, knowing that Laurent was not as good of a swordsman and therefore would not be able to concentrate on the conversation with his usual attention. 

Instead of answering Auguste’s first statement, Laurent said, “En garde.” 

Auguste with a sword was a sight to behold. Fighting him could put a man in his place immediately. _Here is your king_ , his form said. “King Damianos and I are considerably closer than I am to the prince of Patras.” 

“Are you asking me to play nicely?” Laurent asked, parrying a fairly straight-forward slash of Auguste’s blade. Auguste was going easy on him, that was clear, and it was infuriating. 

“I’m asking you, my most trusted advisor, to not spill a goblet of wine and retire to your apartments the moment things get uncomfortable. I need you to stick around for the entirety of these meetings,” Auguste said, allowing Laurent to parry once more before dropping his sword lower, the point at Laurent’s belly. If this were a real fight Laurent would be gutted. “Got you.” 

Annoyed at having been bested so easily, Laurent narrowed his eyes. He took a step back and they began again. “What makes you think things will get uncomfortable?” 

“I know Damen well enough to know that they undoubtedly will,” Auguste said almost fondly. 

“And this amuses you?” Laurent asked, a little indignant, as he thrust his sword forward. 

“Imagining you rejecting the king of Akeilos amuses me greatly, yes,” Auguste said, disarming Laurent easily. He was so unfairly good at this. “He’s rather confident in his abilities.” 

Laurent picked his sword back up. He was breathing heavily now. “And what makes you think I’d reject him?” he said.

“Surely, you jest,” Auguste said, a nervous edge in his voice.

The thing was, Laurent was not joking. But he played it off like he was. “You know I’m trying to make slavery in the southern countries illegal. The king would likely be much more agreeable if I slept with him, don’t you think?”

“Ha, ha,” Auguste said, rolling his eyes. He went to put his sword away and did not see the light blush that colored Laurent’s cheeks as he thought about King Damianos.


	9. FOUR POINT THREE

Laurent’s lips pressed into a hard line as he watched the pets, all arranged provocatively in the garden, talking among themselves. They’d brought in a few blonds, no doubt in preparation for the Akeilon king’s visit, and Laurent bristled watching them. Why should he be jealous? If rumors were to be believed, half of Akeilos had bent over for the king. None of these men were special. 

“Why are you looking at the pets like they just admitted to cannibalism?” Auguste asked, coming to stand beside Laurent. 

“Was I?” Laurent asked innocently. 

“Come on, I’ve received word that the king has arrived,” Auguste said. 

Laurent furrowed his brow. “It’s earlier than expected.”


	10. FOUR POINT FOUR

Like always, the two kings embraced. Behind King Damianos, an equally tall, less handsome man watched Laurent cautiously. 

“It’s an honor to make your acquaintance once again, Prince Laurent,” King Damianos said in accented Veretian once he was finished greeting Auguste. 

This time, when the king took Laurent’s hand to kiss it, Laurent did not swoon. “The honor is mine, Exalted,” Laurent said in perfect Akeilon. He had been practicing daily in preparation for this meeting. 

Surprised, the king tilted his head, and then smiled widely. It was the sort of infectious, beautiful smile that could make someone weak in the knees. Someone, but not Laurent, who was still bitter from watching the pets in the garden.


	11. FOUR POINT FIVE

Nikandros watched his king and the King of Vere walk side by side, their steps perfectly in sync. This was good. More poetic onlookers could consider it a show of solidarity between the two nations that they considered one another to be true equals. 

Nikandros’ counterpart was Prince Laurent, being that they were both advisors to their respective kings. The prince stood next to Nikandros and, after a respectful distance, they followed the two leaders. 

Prince Laurent had a cool, calculating gaze that would unnerve a lesser man. But Nikandros was unnerved for reasons that had less to do with Laurent’s gaze and more to do with who might get caught in it. 

Despite how alike he looked to the king, it was clear that the two were made out of different stuff entirely. His features were arranged more delicately than the Veretian king’s, for one thing. For another, where the king’s golden hair and smattering of freckles evoked warmth and thoughts of the sun, Laurent’s light coloring and lack of marks on his skin made him look like he’d just sprouted from an iceberg, fully-formed and without flaws on his freezing body. 

And his king, his Damianos, liked them cold.


End file.
